


No One Is Going To Save Me This Way

by ImmortalEcstasy



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: F/M, Human Impala, Ianpala, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalEcstasy/pseuds/ImmortalEcstasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted?<br/>[unbeta'd]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prologue

It was the first day of winter by minutes only. It was dark and a numbing wind travelled gently along the roads. The only human life was a young couple, wrapped in each others arms against the cold beneath the shelter of a bus stop. Both wore coats, gloves and scarves and still the clung to each other to keep warm. Her face buried in his chest, his nose in her hair. The only light came, garish orange, through the street lamps, but even as the couple rocked back and forth in their embrace, waiting for the bus, late as always, they began to flicker out.

It started at the lamp furthest away from them, gradually coming closer. The man looked up over his partners head and saw that only three lamps were left before the light would pass them. One. Two. Surrounded by darkness now it was as if the the temperature had dropped colder still. The man could no longer see the smoke that billowed out of his mouth with each exhale. 

“The bus was meant to be here ages ago.” the girl whines, breaking the silence that came hand in hand with the night time.   
The man shushes her with “I know”'s and whispers and his hands in her hair. When he kissed her her nose felt like ice.   
A man ran towards them, he was barely visible in the darkness but the man could have sworn he was naked.   
“Sorry I'm late.” The man panted as he came to a stop before them, and close up. The couple could see he was definitely naked.   
“Uh...” The man began as the girl shuffled even closer to him, stepping on his toes. All of a sudden there was the hum of an engine and the naked runner yelped in horror, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't drive past, but those boys... those boys are trying to kill me...!”  
The runner left the dumbstruck couple and ran on down the left side of the road and down the street the bus would take them down, when it got there.  
The girl gave a nervous giggle as two headlights rounded the corner, blinding eyes that had adjusted to the dark. The girl saw a flash of chrome as the car pulled up next to them. Once again she backed up into her partner.  
“Hey, sorry to bother you two kids.” Came a rough voice from the drivers side. “But did a naked man run this way? Thought he was a bus?”  
Slowly the girl nodded and her partner said “He went that way.” Pointing to the side street.  
“Let me guess, the bus route?”  
The man nodded and the driver tutted what sounded like 'Typical', before saying “Uh, you kids should get home, I don't think the bus is coming.”  
“We've been waiting here for twenty minutes!” The girl piped up indignantly and the driver sighed and repeated himself, “Yeah, well... I don't think the bus is coming.”  
Someone in the passenger side said something, it sounded like he was admonishing the driver.  
“Uh, fine, fine!” Said the driver to his passenger, before turning to the couple again, “Look, if you two want a ride home... we're trying to catch up with that bloke, he uh, he escaped the local hospital and we don't know the bus route, if you show us the way we'll drop you off where you need to be.”

Get in a car with two strangers? The couple looked at each other. It was dark. The bus was very late and there was apparently a mental naked man running the streets. A silent communication took place between the two of them before the girl said, “Sure. We'll have a ride.”

They dropped the girl off first, even though it would have been easier to drop the man off. The driver was fine with it, knew that the kids must feel like they'd taken a risk. When the girl was on the pavement she said “I hope you catch that guy.”  
“Thank you.” said the passenger with a smile, nodding his head goodbye.  
The man didn't say anything other than “Uh, thanks.” when they dropped him off. But stared after them as they sped down the street and back onto the bus route they'd asked him to describe.   
“You're late.” His Dad said as he closed the front door. “I was beginning to worry.”  
“Yeah, well, you know what the buses around here are like.”  
“Unpredictable, yeah. As soon as you get your car fixed the better, you shouldn't a' been driving it drunk.”  
The man ignored him and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see the leftovers on the top shelf with microwave instructions attached to the plate with a post-it note, courtesy of his sister no doubt.  
He saw a movement outside the window out of the corner of his eye as he set the timer on the microwave for three minutes. He went to the window and squinted out – sure enough he saw another movement, it was coming from the garage.  
Quickly he raced out, grabbing the baseball bat they kept behind the back door as he ran across the garden and unbolted the door to the garage, flicking on the garage light and raising the bat – his car was gone. In its place was a bleeding naked man, staring at him with such a rage in his eyes the man began to back away.  
“You.” The bleeding man grunted, struggling to his feet. The blood seemed to be coming mostly from his head and chest. 

As the microwave pinged, the man who had been given a lift home, who had spent that afternoon lounging on the local park with his girlfriend – took his last breath, the top half of a broken baseball bat rolling away from him.


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted?  
> [unbeta'd]

Sam and Dean made their way up to the house uneasily. It had been so long since Dean had worn a tie that it felt like a hangman's noose around his neck, but he didn't loosen it – wanting to appear as professional as possible.  
Dean knocked on the door and they waited for a moment before a large man in a stained white vest opened the door. His eyes were blood shot and he had a can of lager in his hand. 

“Hey.” Dean started with a polite smile, “I'm detective Steve Walsh, this is my partner David Ragsdale. Is it okay if we come in?”  
The man was clearly drunk and as they walked through the rest of the house and Sam glimpsed the photographs of the wall and the overall upkeep of the house, he assumed that it was unusual for this man to be in a dirty vest and less than sober. Grief did that to people.  
“He's.. he's through in the garage. The, um, the police said I couldn't get the body taken by the undertaker until they'd collected all the... all the evidence.”  
Sam picked up what was clearly a wedding photograph.  
“Is this you and the victims mother, Mr Riley?” He asked  
“Yeah... yeah, that's Jennifer. You can't tell but she was already pregnant with 'em then.”  
“Them?”  
“Yeah... uh, twins. M-Mattie n' his sister, Amy.”  
“Is Amy home?”  
“In her room, I can't get her to come down... it was her who found him y'see.”  
“Any other family?” asked Dean from further along the hallway, and Mr Riley shook his head, “No Sir, none.”  
“I understand.” Sam nodded, placing the photograph back down “What happened to Jennifer?”  
“Cancer. She died near four years ago now.”  
“You must miss her.”  
“Every day.”  
Dean caught Sam's eye and gave him a 'seriously?' look, carrying on through the kitchen and into the back garden.

Dean knew it would be the boy they'd given a ride to the night before, as soon as the boy's father had said there was no one else. He felt a rising worry in his stomach that the girl would believe they had something to do with it. But realised they'd overcome much worse than false charges in the past.  
“Must have hit him with some force.” He told Sam as he entered the garage after him, “Snapped the bat clean in-half...”

A short while later they sat in their hotel room on the other side of town, compiling evidence.  
“Okay, so Matt sees something that makes him go out to the garage with the baseball bat. Next thing, he's dead and the car he smashed up is gone...” Sam starts and Dean takes over, “... The car doesn't even work cause of the crash. It couldn't have been stolen, and anyway the big garage boor was locked. The keys still inside the house, and a car couldn't have fit out the back door Matt went through.”  
“Unless he wasn't a car any more.” Sam finished with a grim smile.  
“So this is definitely one of ours.”

Three days later and two more incidents. One car reported stolen in impossible circumstances, and a naked nut-job in it's place ranting and raving about baby sick down their upholstery, and then the previous evening a proud owner of a customised BMW was beaten to death with an oil can.  
According to the map Sam had put up on the wall... “It's happening in a line.”  
“What?” Dean asked quickly, standing up from where he'd been leaning back in his chair and going over to Sam, following his finger. The line wasn't exact, more of a zig-zag, but there was a definite pattern.  
“The first murder and missing car happened here. At the west end of the state, right?”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Well, if we're counting the next one...”  
“The lawn mower?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yeah – well, that was about ten miles east.”  
“Right, and the next one?”  
“Ten miles east of that, and the next one.”  
“And the bus?”  
“And Matt.” Sam finishes, pointing at a final red cross on the map.  
“So, the bus driver said that one minute his bus was there, and the next minute it was a naked dude?” Dean asks.  
“And that matches with what the neighbour said about the lawn-mower before it shredded that kid. It would fit the circumstances for Matt. His car turns into a human, beats the crap out of him because he crashed it...” Sam had got into the swing of it, passionately moving his arms as he spoke, but then he hit a wall and added questioningly: “Then it just...leaves?”  
“Great Sam. But where to?”  
“Well the big door was locked. It must have gone out the way Matt came in.”  
“It didn't go through the house.”  
“Over the fence?”  
Dean shrugs, leaving that searing question alone for the time being “So, the first car, that was found?”  
“Yeah. A month later the car was found in an alley way.”  
“So if we're going from that... whatever it is that gets turned human, has a month of being human and then turns back into whatever it was?”  
“Maybe.” Sam offers, “Or it did what it set out to do and changed back. Or whatever did this got bored of it, or ran out of juice... I don't know. But we don't know what's doing it and if the stuff definitely changed back.”  
“What's the link? I get the bus and cars, but the lawn mower?”  
“It was powered by petrol. I think that's what they have in common. All the things that turned human are powered by petrol.”  
There's a moment of thoughtful silence before Sam adds “And it seems to be happening quicker. There was a week or so between the first car and the lawn mower, a couple of days between that and the next one... and now they've been happening daily.”  
“Well when is it going to stop? At the state line? Never?”  
Sam shrugs, “I don't know Dean, but we need to get on top of this before it starts happening by the hour.”  
“Okay, well... where's ten miles east of Matt?  
It takes Sam about ten minutes to do the maths – measuring it on the map, finding the location...  
“Uh... Dean?”  
“What?”  
“We're about ten miles east.”  
“What?!”  
“Well, it's not exact, the attacks are ten miles apart give or take half a mile or so. So I did a circle around the ten mile point with a half a mile radius on either side... and we're in the circle.” Sam gestured to the map, where a red doughnut shape covered the map, he was pointing between the two circles at where their hotel was.  
By the time Sam turns away from the map Dean is already shoving his possessions back into his duffel bag, “Dean what're you doing?”  
“No way am I leaving my car in the danger zone. We're moving hotels.”

It was already dark when they got outside.  
“Dean, its late. Can't we move in the morning?”  
Dean laughed, “Oh no. No way.”  
He sees his car in the parking lot and lets go of the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. His car still looking like his car. Beautiful as ever.  
His pace slowed now that the panic was over, and as he opened the drivers side door he saw something out of the corner of his eye. In the back-seat of the Impala was a ball of brown cloth, it took a moment for him to figure out what it was but as he lunged into the back-seat to get it – it was too late. 

The hand supporting his weight on the door fell as the door materialised and Dean fell forwards, only to be knocked out of the way as the back of the impala rose up and hit him in the face – he fell into a heap at the side of his car, which was mutating horribly and making a sound unlike any he had every heard. It was a cross between a failing engine and a gut wrenching scream. By the time Dean looked up in horror his car was unidentifiable, two arms were attached to where the front doors had been frantically trying to gain purchase on the windscreen.  
Dean felt someone pulling on his arm and scrambled away and got to his feet only to realise Sam was pulling him out of the way as his car shrunk in size and the wheels retracted back into car – which was now taller than it was wide. 

“Dean!” Same yelled over the agonising noise, but Dean barely heard him, staring as the black shine of his car turned cream and started to take on the shape of a man.  
All around him the contents of the Impala, the guns, the clothes, the fake ID's, the odd empty cup, all of their possessions, clatter to the floor in one great thud. The blurred human shape wobbled on it's new legs and Dean automatically reached out and took hold of it's arm to steady it. There was a ball of light that suddenly covered the human shape and as the light burst outwards it knocked Dean off his feet, his hand still wrapped around an arm that was no longer a blank canvas, but muscular underneath his hand. Dean landed on his knees, and what had been his car landed awkwardly against him.

The figure was no longer an unidentifiable blur in human shape. It was breathing now, shallow and surprised all at once. In the next few seconds all Dean could do was stare. It was a man. Pale and muscular, a jet of messy black hair on top of his head to match the thatch of hair that travelled down from his bellybutton. His eyes were closed his eyelids twitching as if he were having a bad dream, and as Dean went to move away the human impala's eyes opened, icy blue and full of surprise. His eyes met Dean's and his mouth fell open in a perfect 'o', slowly his eyes moved to his hands, raised in front of him and he stared at them the way a toddler gazes at something new. He flexed his fingers and jumped at the action, startled eyes turning back to Dean his mouth trying to form words, his lips making several different shapes before he manages “Dean.”  
Dean can't even speak, he's still holding onto the top of the man's arm, frozen in place, staring at the inquisitive blue eyes locked on him.

It's Sam that saves the moment, grabbing the rough blanket that had been rolled up in the boot – used for when they were covered in blood, or shit or any number of things that got covered with in this job so that they wouldn't ruin the car. It was a bit stained but currently clean, and Sam quickly wrapped the naked man up in it. “Uh, Dean, c'mon. We're going to attract attention, lets get him inside.”  
Dean let go of the man's arm and struggled to his feet, looking expectantly at the man sat awkwardly on the floor wrapped in a blood stained blanket.  
The man – the impala – stared back at him innocently and as Dean gestured with his hands to get up, understanding flooded his eyes and he awkwardly got to his feet. As soon as he was vertical however he wobbled, clearly unsure on his feet and Dean saved him from falling with a hand on his back.  
Sam began picking up the contents of the car that littered the area around them, trying to conceal it all and failing.  
“Uh... Dean?”  
Dean snapped out of the sudden lack of ability to speak and looked at Sam, laden with guns and his duffel bag.  
“I'll take -uh, him... back to the room. You stay here and try not let anyone see all this. I'll just... leave him there and come back and help carry all this back. We can't just leave it here.”  
“But Dean... can we just... leave him on his own? Nearly all the other cars killed their owners!”  
Dean looks at the man that used to be his car and back at Sam, “Dude, he doesn't even know how to walk, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine.”  
Sam rolls his eyes but doesn't protest again as Dean steps forwards. The human Impala stumbles a bit and Dean reluctantly puts an arm around his waist, letting the scantily clothed man lean on him.

By the time they get up to their room the man is using Dean for support less and less and Dean begins to think his plan might not have been such a good one. But with Sam out there guarding a huge pile of illegal items in a public car park, he didn't have much of a choice. He opened the door, glad he'd been in such of a rush before that he didn't give back the keycard or even check out.  
Dean led his car into the room and sat him down on the end of the bed gently.  
“Now, uh, I need you to stay here. Just for a minute. I need to get all the stuff that was...” Dean falters and starts again, “I need to get all the stuff that was in your trunk and bring it up here so it's safe. Okay?”  
The man looks at him, he'd lost the innocent and unsure look but he still looked fragile. When Dean raised his eyebrows at the lack of response he quickly nodded his head and then looked startled that his head had moved at all.

Dean gave up on debating what the right thing to do was and raced back outside to help Sam.  
As soon as he got in ear shot Sam hissed “Dean, seriously? He's going to try and kill you! And you just put him in our room?”  
“What was I supposed to do with him? Let him run around naked?” Dean demands, picking up a sawn off shotgun off the ground.  
“He's going to try and kill you!” Sam repeats as if his brother had gone temporarily deaf the first time.  
“Sam, it's the Impala!” Dean exclaims, as if that explained his actions perfectly, and to Dean it did, until...  
“Yeah Dean! That car has been wrecked more than any other car on the planet! It's been built from the ground up more than once! If you don't recall – when Gabriel was screwing with us, I was the Impala, and it hurt Dean. Just being there. It was agony. That beat up car killed Matt because he crashed it once, what's the Impala going to want to do to you?”  
A vision of when Dean had smashed the crap out of his car filled his mind, and suddenly, for the first time since he'd looked at the human personification of his pride and joy, he was scared.


	3. A Lot To Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted?  
> [unbeta'd]

When they made it back to the room, burdened by all the equipment that had been inside the car, and in Dean's pocket was the toy soldier Sam had stuffed in the ashtray. The newly human impala was sat in the exact same place Dean had left him. His eyes red-rimmed and wet. He jumped as they hesitantly went into the room. Dumping the contents of their arms in the corner with their back against the wall, their eyes on him at all times – and even though Dean just stood there awkwardly while Sam did all the work, Those ice-blue eyes never left his face.  
“Uh, you okay?” Dean asked after such an awkward silence he absently thought that he wanted the ground to swallow him up, before his thoughts quickly took a tangent into hell and what he had suffered there and he then thought that even an awkward silence with your car was a million times more preferable than the ground swallowing you up.  
The Impala snorts and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Peachy, Dean. Thanks.”  
“Sorry. Uh...” Dean starts and loses the words, “Can you tell me what happened?”  
The question puts a look of deep thinking onto the cars chiselled new face and after a moment he says “When she put the hex bag in me...”  
“Who?” Dean asks and the car looks surprised looking at Sam and saying “Okay, now I know why you get annoyed when he does that.”  
Sam gives him a thin lipped smile and gestures for the car to continue speaking.  
“I don't know who it was. I didn't have eyes at that point. I could just sort of... sense her all of a sudden, and then I started getting these memories. Of us, John, Mary, Sal... the angel. Of...” His bottom lip quivered and he swallowed hard “Of being possessed by that woman. The crashes. All of it.” He looked at Dean. “You built me back up. When I was too tired and I didn't want to carry on you brought me back to life, made me young again.”  
Dean nodded slowly, for once speechless.  
“So you remember everything?” Sam asks curiously.  
“I remember the past year without Dean. I remember Meg, and the year of cold nothingness under an old blanket in a shed...” He looked at the blanket around his shoulders and shuddered, “This blanket.”  
Dean blanched, “I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you there, we had to.”  
The car nods but he doesn't look like he understands, or forgives, what happened to him.  
“You left so many times Dean. Times I was completely on my own or with Sam. I'm your car! You're supposed to look after me!” His voice rose from the whine of a kicked puppy to the growl of a kicked lion.  
“I'm sorry.”  
“You're sorry. You're sorry? You know how many times you say those words? And do you ever fucking mean them?”  
“Hey man! I am sorry for what happened! I never meant to god damn leave you. What? You think I wanted to be in hell? In Purgatory? You think I wanted to leave you rotting in some godforsaken shed while Sam and I were on the run and stealing shitty cars that never felt right?”  
The car laps into silence, brooding. Sam swears he's never seen a grown man pout quite like it.  
“Guys, guys. There's a lot to talk about okay,” Sam finally interrupts, “I know that.” he swears, hands against his chest, “But dude...” he gestured to the car, “you just turned into a human like a quarter of an hour ago. I'd be surprised if you got used to it that quick, all those new memories, emotions. I bet it's like a roller-coaster in your head and you don't know what to think, right? I sure as hell wouldn't – and me and Dean aren't used to it yet either. So why don't you like... go for a bath, and we'll find you some clothes. Have some time on your own and then we'll go get something to eat and... and talk... okay?”  
Both Dean and his car just stare at him until Sam has to pull his bitch-face at Dean and repeat “Okay...?!”  
“Fine.” Dean snaps and so the car nods slightly and then says “A bath...?”  
“A wash.” Sam rephrases and the cars eyes brighten in understanding.

Sam runs it for him and gets some of Dean's clothes together, the car looked little bit shorter but not by much. Dean's clothes would have to do for now. Sam wondered for the millionth time what was happening. They shouldn't have a anthropomorphous car in their hotel room. Not least one turned human by a hex bag, when almost every other car (or lawnmower) that had recently undergone the same transformation had killed their owner as pay back for misuse. At the moment the Impala seemed to be a little unsure of everything, still getting used to the human form and thoughts. But Sam reckoned that would change, and as the man walked into the bathroom after him and stood in the doorway, he knew he was right. Since the transformation only a handful of minutes before, he'd got the hang of walking, and experienced his first wave of anger at Dean. As he mastered his emotions would that anger concentrate itself against Dean? Sam was too worried to think about how fucked up it would be if the car that had saved them so many times ended up ending them.

“What are you doing?” The antagonist of all his thoughts asked him and he turned to look at the man draped in the filthy sheet in the doorway of the bathroom.  
“Running you a bath.”  
“Run...” He starts but seems to understand that Sam doesn't mean literally 'running', he's seen them running towards or away from him enough times to know it wasn't the same thing, so instead he asked “Where's the bucket?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You said wash. I've always been washed with a bucket and a sponge, then rinsed with a hosepipe.” He shuddered at the thought of freezing water being fired at him.  
Sam made a noise of understanding and gestured to the filling tub, “Ah, well humans wash in a 'bath', which is basically a big bucket. You just... lie down in it. Or sit up, if you prefer. We have showers too. I guess they're sort of like hose pipes, except they're supposed to be warm.”  
“So you wash in a bath and rinse in a shower?”  
“No... you just use one of them, and there's no shower in this hotel so – bath it is.”  
The car nodded in understanding and Sam pointed at the clothes he'd left on top of the toilet seat, “There's some of Dean's clothes there for you to put on afterwards – uh, dry yourself with a towel first...” he said, putting a towel on top of Dean's clothes as an afterthought, “If you have a problem...”  
“I've seen you and Dean get changed enough times. I think I can manage.”  
Sam awkwardly took the blanket from him and gestured for him to get in the bath, he wobbled a bit getting in and for a moment just stood in the tub, water up to his shins. He was looking at the water below him curiously, and after a while he sunk down into the water with a squeak – as he bent down Sam saw a devil's trap on his back, as if it had been tattooed there (or sprayed with paint) and Sam gladly left the room, shuddering.

He surreptitiously closed the door to the bathroom and looked over at Dean – who had now gone into a similar state of mind as when Bella towed their car.  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed at the sight of him, quickly going over to him and taking hold of his shoulders, “Wow, dude, calm down!”  
“Calm... calm... Sam that thing in there is my car! My car!”  
“Yeah and we'll figure out how to change him back.”  
Dean laughed almost manically, “him. My cars a him.” he laughed again, “w-what is that about?”  
“It seems all of the transformed vehicles have been male.” Sam said reasonably, worried about how wide his brothers eyes were.  
“But Sam, it's Baby! She's a she! All cars are she's!!”  
“Apparently not – look Dean, it might just be the magic turning the impala into a male, doesn't mean she's... um, a he...”  
“The hex bag!”  
“What?”  
“Well what do you usually do? You burn them!”  
Sam raised his eyebrows and let Dean do the thinking for that one – it took a while but eventually his hopeful face turned sour again, “It's inside him, isn't it.”  
“Probably.”  
“And, even if we knew whereabouts in him it was...”  
“We'd kill him cutting it out.”  
“Would that mean no car?”  
“I don't know Dean. But I think we should be careful with him we don't want to do something that effects the car.”  
“Is there any surgeons who know about this sort of thing that would get it out for us?”  
“Dean. If we got a surgeon, they'd look after the human part but what's to say that even that won't wreck the car too?”  
Dean scowled, angry at Sam for ruining every plan that had popped into his head.  
Silence fell on them and they could hear splashing from behind the door Sam had closed.  
They both looked towards the door and Sam said “He has a devils trap on his back – like the one we sprayed on the boot.”  
Dean nodded acknowledgement.  
“You really think he remembers everything?”  
“Must do. He mentioned a load of stuff he couldn't know unless... well, unless he really is the impala. That's some serious magic Dean.”  
Once again, Dean nodded, ruffling his hair with his hands to give them something to do.  
“Dean, do you really think he won't hurt you? Us?”  
“I dunno Sammy. He's our car, we've always done our best to look after him.”  
“Didn't do a good job most of the time.” Sam points out and Dean's head bows in admittance.  
“No but we never damaged her – him – on purpose.”  
“I drove him through a house.”  
“To save me.”  
“You think that counts for something?”  
Dean is halfway through nodding when he says “I don't know. He hasn't tried to kill us yet.”  
“Well I'm betting no one else took their car-turned-human into their room and ran him a bath.”  
“Yeah, well we've done stupider things before now.”  
Sam raises his eyebrows and the he nods his head just the once – and when Dean gives him a sheepish smile he returns it whole heartedly.


	4. Dealing With Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted?  
> [unbeta'd]

Dean and Sam finished their whispered plan just in time. They concluded that they'd be as nice as possible to the car in hopes that it wouldn't get angry at them. It was the best they had at the moment. Just as Sam had agreed to a persistent Dean the door to the bathroom opened.

He'd managed the clothes well. His hair was still damp and it stuck up at all angles but it wasn't dripping down his neck. The shirt was the right way around and he had the jacket on properly. In fact it only seemed to be the socks – which he held in his hands – that had caused him a problem. But on closer inspection Dean realised that the reason the jacket wasn't buttoned up was not because of a fashion choice – he hadn't been able to do it. The button on his jeans was undone too – though he'd figured out the zip. Dean quickly averted his eyes from the button hole.  
“Did you like your bath?” Sam asked carefully.  
“Hmm? Oh, yes. It was much better than a cold hose pipe, in this weather anyway.” He looked up and then around him, settling on the window to view the purple-grey clouds.  
“Being inside is weird.” He adds, looking up at the ceiling again.

Dean grinned at him, “You've been inside before.”  
Baby nods quickly, “Yes, but usually I had a sheet suffocating me.”  
He said it reasonably nonchalantly but Dean quickly put 'being inside' in the 'don't discuss' pile, a quick look at Sam told him that Sam had done the exact same thing.  
Dean wanted to offer to help him with the buttons on his jacket, but he wasn't sure how the car would react.  
“You got used to be being able to move by yourself yet?” He asks instead – and then feels like a complete jerk, a soon-to-be-murdered jerk. But the man just looks at him for a moment with those piercing eyes before saying, “I think so. It's less weird having all the new stuff to move than being able to move it all on my own.” He looks at Dean in a way that makes him uncomfortable – his car was checking him out, he was sure of it. That or he was going bat shit crazy.  
“Yeah, I bet.” Dean says quickly and finds his eyes copying the car. Scanning his chiselled face and fluffy damp hair, broad shoulders, thin waist – Dean's own jeans a little big on his hips, showing off a line of thick black hair and perfectly formed hipbones, it's only then Dean notices oddly shaped scars – he frowns and his car notices, looking down for an explanation.  
When he catches Dean's eye he lifts the top of the shirt up and Dean – horrified – realises what it is. It's his initials, and Sam's, scarring his flesh as if they'd taken a knife to his skin and carved it in there. Which is exactly what they'd done in a sense.  
But the car doesn't look angry as he gives Dean a small smile, his thumb brushing over the scars.  
A ball of heat starts up in Dean's stomach as that thumb moves again, brushing lovingly against those scars, stopping just above the jutting hipbone. It was all he could do to stop his jaw falling open.

“So... Dean and I were thinking...” Sam interrupts, and both Dean and his car startle slightly, “we don't know how long you might stay like this.”  
“Human?”  
“That's right. Only one of the other cars has turned back – it took about a month. But we've still not found some of the others, and they've been human for longer now. They could still be human.”  
The man nodded his understanding and dropped the shirt back into place over the undone Jeans.  
“So maybe we can all just make the most of it?” Sam offers and the car immediately looks at Dean, who feels the need to say something but can't think of what.  
Slowly his eyes turn back to the other brother and he nods, “Okay. Uh, question.”  
“Go ahead.”  
“That other car, what do you mean 'found' it, why didn't it stay with its owner?”  
Sam opened his mouth to lie when Dean said, “It killed him. The owner mistreated his car and the car got its own back.”  
The car looks shocked, so much so that he struggles to make his tongue work, “It m- it k- the c- it- it killed him? Why?”  
Dean suddenly felt a lot better about having invited his car in.  
“The owner crashed it.”  
“You've crashed me hundreds of times, doesn't mean I'm gonna-- oh!”  
Sam and Dean look at each other apprehensively as the man's eyes glaze over in thought.  
“Uh... what is it?”  
“He crashed it.”  
“Yeah...”  
“But he didn't fix it. He just... he just left it, in agony. Broken and bleeding and he didn't care!”  
Tears were flowing freely from his eyes but whether the were tears of sadness of anger Dean didn't know – he decided both when his car's voice turned from disbelievingly to venomous.  
“That fu-- how could-- No wonder the poor thing killed him! I would've gutted him where he stood, I would've--!”  
He stopped when he saw Dean's face, saw him backing away in fear. The car didn't quite understand what it was yet but there was a painful aching in his chest and somehow he knew it was there because he'd shocked Dean.  
“No... no Dean, it's okay...! You always fixed me, you never let me suffer longer than you had to.. it's okay...!” More tears were pouring down his face now and he didn't understand them, they were out of his control. He wiped them away quickly with the fingers he didn't quite get how to work yet, explaining, “I've never had to deal with emotions physically before, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leak like this.”  
Sam gives him an understanding smile, “It must be a lot to take in.”  
The man sniffs and nods, his jaw tightening in frustration.  
“Well, you've mastered walking and dressing – mostly -” Dean tells him, eyeing the open buttons. “you'll master emotions pretty quick too I bet.”  
He gets a small smile for his encouragement and then Baby looks at the wall covered in maps, news reports and photographs. “Is this what you guys do?” He asks curiously, wandering over “The only bits I get to see are when you pretend to be other people and bitch and moan.”  
Dean laughs and heads over to him, “Less exciting to know we have to do all the boring stuff too?”  
The grin he gets in return is all teeth and for some reason Dean needs to look away. It was all crazy. Crazier than the normal stuff. He wasn't sure how to feel, there was a magnetism about the man that used to be his car that he didn't fully understand. Obviously he loved his car and he felt a large amount of respect for the handsome man walking around in his clothes, a similar affection to what he had for his car – he suddenly found himself thinking that if only his car had been female he would be a lot more comfortable with those emotions.

The two brothers explained the rest of the ins and outs of the case and answered many questions – some of them had simple answers but some of them were harder to explain, it was obvious after about half an hour that this man would be helpful, asking all the right questions. Dean secretly wanted his car to make a break through but they'd gone over every detail already. Atleast they now knew how it was happening though.  
“You think if you saw this witch you'd recognise... I don't know... the feel of her?”  
“I'm not sure.” Came the honest reply, “I didn't get to see her and at the time I had memories flying at me from all angles and it was kind of over-whelming.”  
“Don't sweat it.” As Dean spoke there was a grumbling sound – it took a few moments for him to realise it was his cars grumbling stomach – and he only came to that conclusion because of the startled look on the man's face as he stared at his stomach.  
“Good. You're hungry – because I'm starving.”  
“What?”  
“Your stomach made that noise cause it's hungry. You know, you have like an aching feeling in your stomach?”  
“Stomach.” He looked at his torso again and nodded, “Yeah, right, okay.”  
Sam stretched his legs out from where he sat at the end of his bed, “Shall one of us go get some food to bring back here...?”  
Dean looked at his car and then said, “Nah, lets eat out. No car wants to be kept inside all day.”  
“Dean.” Sam said sternly, “are you sure that's a good idea?”  
“Yep.”  
Sam rolled his eyes but didn't comment, reaching across the room to get his shoes.  
Dean's shoes were a size too big but they fit better than Sam's which were at least four sizes too big.  
When they were ready to go Dean let Sam go ahead a moment.  
“C'mere.” he said to his car, gesturing for him to come closer, the man approaches mechanically and stared at him as Dean did up the bottom button of his jacket, “Look, you just need to press it through like this...”  
He did a second button and took a step back, “Try.”  
His car looked at him with a lop-sided smile as his hands went to the next button and dropped immediately when he found it was harder than it looked. Dean showed him again, leaving two buttons on his jacket and the button on his jeans for his car to do. When he'd finally managed it and they headed out, Sam was waiting in the car space where the car had been with a peculiar look on his face.  
“Guess we're walking.” Dean called as a greeting but Sam's expression didn't shift as he nodded and asked which direction they wanted to go.

They ended up at a bog standard food chain, sat in a booth with the car nearest to the window – Sam next to him and Dean opposite. Sam and Dean browsed the menu while the car looked outside the window.  
“Are you going to have a look?” Sam asked him, offering him the menu.  
“I don't think I can read.” He admitted nonchalantly, “And besides, even if I could I have no idea what tastes good.” He pauses for a moment, “That stuff I see you eating in the car, it doesn't exactly seem appealing.”  
Of all the chaos that had happened that day, Dean had never looked as shocked as he did at that moment, “Right. That's it then, you can have what I'm having – and then afterwards you can tell me it's 'not appealing', okay?”  
The car snorted and then nodded his head, “Fine.”

When the food arrived Dean took a huge mouthful, and over the top of his burger saw his car looking at the food in front of him as if it were about to eat him instead of the other way around.  
“well you gonna eat or not?” He said around his food, making the car laugh and pick it up awkwardly in his hands, careful not to let the contents of the burger fall out. He continued to observe it in his hands and didn't take a bite until Dean was half way through his own burger.

He took a long time to chew and almost choked swallowing it – being passed a coke by a worried looking Sam. He hastily took a gulp and made a 'bluergh!' sound at the taste, shuddering. “That's new.”  
“Eating?”  
The car nodded, “It feels crazy. It doesn't feel right – and that...” he gestured at the glass of coke, “that does not taste like I thought it would. It looks like...” He paused, embarrassed. “Well, I thought it might be fuel.”  
“Gasoline?”  
The car shrugged defensively and took a smaller bite of his burger – not following Dean's lead this time by shoving half of it in his mouth. The daintier bites seemed to work and he polished off the burger without any more drama.  
“what do you think?” Dean asked when he'd finished the last bite and was staring at his sause covered fingers.  
“Not as bad as it looks, but it tastes... I don't know, like it'll ruin my engine – uh, body.”  
Sam laughs, “That's because it does.” but he quickly amends his words at the look of horror he brings to the man. “Well, no, it won't ruin it. It's just not the healthiest thing in the world to eat.”  
“Then what is?”  
“Things that don't taste as good.” Dean tells him seriously.  
“There are things that taste worse than this?”  
Sam laughs and Dean scowls, before answering his question. “Yes. Healthy stuff is usually disgusting.”  
“But I want to keep my en-- my body running properly. I don't want to let you down.”  
“Let me--” Dean stops and looks at him curiosity, a small smile curving his lips as Sam pats the car on his back and tells him “You won't.”  
The car smiles at him impishly and takes another sip of coke, his nose wrinkling in distaste.  
“So what now?”  
Dean looks at his watch and shrugs, “We have time to scout for more leads?”  
Sam sighs, “Yeah but we don't have any. There's no new incidents today – well, with the exception of – the impala – hey, man, we can't keep calling you 'the car' or 'the impala'...”  
The car raises his eyebrows, “Why not?”  
“It's...” Sam falters but dean picks up for him, “It would be suspicious. People would notice us shouting, 'Oi, Car.' wouldn't they?”  
“Wouldn't people notice you regardless of what you were shouting? Shouting attracts attention doesn't it?”  
“Smart ass.” Dean grumbles before trying again doggedly, “No, we need something to call you. Uh. Sam?”  
“We could have a look at that website that named Cas when he lost his memory?”  
“And end up giving him some god awful name like 'Emanuel', huh?”  
“I... I don't want a new name.”  
“Then, what?”  
“I don't know.”  
“Chevy?” Dean asked,  
“Evan?  
“Evan?!”  
“Chevrolet... Ev.... Evan.”  
“We're not calling my car Evan.” Dean insists, before looking at his car quickly – worried about describing the potentially life-threatening man before him as one of his possessions, but on looking at him, he saw a blaze in his eyes he's not seen as of yet, sort of like triumph. Dean looked away.  
“Paul?”  
“Sam. You're not coming up with any more names, okay?”  
Sam pulls a bitch-face at his brother as Dean turned back to look at his car, “What do you want your name to be? If you don't want a new one you must already have one in mind.”  
The car blushed and managed, “Well, you already have a nickname for me Dean.”  
Sam looked smug as Dean felt around in his brain for the apparent nickname until his brain found the right word, his term of endearment for his pride and join.  
“Baby?” He manages to gasp out and the car beams at him. Sam interrupts their quiet little moment by laughing: “Well we can't call you that!”  
“Why not?” The car says hotly – and Dean, had he not felt awkward about the “my car is a dude thing” would have demanded the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any criticism and feedback is very welcome and encouraged, and if anyone notices any errors please point them out so I can fix them! Thank you.


	5. The First Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted?  
> [unbeta'd]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Chapter that was published on my tumblr, so from now on this fanfic will be updated as I write it. I'm very inconsistent with it. I could well give a chapter a day for a week and then nothing for a month, and for that I'm sorry but it's better than promising once a week and being unable to fulfil that promise - or giving you badly written chapters as a result of forcing myself.

On the way back to their hotel afterwards, Dean kept having to grab the newly named 'Baby' by the shoulder and pulling him off of the edge of the road, which he kept veering towards. After the sixth time Dean had done this, he pulled his car to the other side of him, blocking the road with his own body. After a minute or so of this Baby was uncomfortably close, their arms touching every few paces but Dean said nothing as they reached the hotel and went through the car park towards the entrance.  
As they got to their door Dean fished for the keycard and ended up holding the toy soldier that had been in his pocket.  
Baby laughed at it and at Dean's raised eyebrows said, “You don't even want to know where that came out of.”  
Dean took half a second to realise and dropped the toy and keycard with a yelp, glaring at Baby as he picked the card up again, and then gingerly picked up the toy between with thumb and finger.  
“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed as he unlocked the door and walked in first, leaving his amused brother and equally amused car in the hallway.  
The other two followed him and much to Baby's annoyance, they started up on the millions of questions again, he did his best to answer but those answers mostly consisted of “I don't know.” or “I'm not sure.” because the majority of the questions were about how he was suddenly human, and the transaction was now a complete blur. It was like a dream, more and more of the trauma was slipping away from him. He couldn't remember the surge of emotion or the sudden sense of existence, it had now merged seamlessly into his life as a car. The only difference was he could now walk and talk. 

None of it made any sense to him, he remembered explaining it to them a few hours before, but now that felt wrong, it was as if the transaction had just been physical. All the memories and feeling had always been there. But he wasn't sure if that was true and it confused him no end. It really was quiet something not to be able to trust your own mind, it was scary. 

The day quickly turned to night and a new problem arose. Two beds, three men. Dean didn't want his car to be on his own in case he freaked out. Sam didn't want Dean and Baby to share in case Baby freaked out and brutally murdered Dean. Baby didn't want to spend the night with Sam leaving Dean on his own for several reasons. One, he hadn't entirely forgiven Sam for his treatment this past year. Two, he didn't know how Dean was coping now that he was out of purgatory, he wanted to be there for him if needed, or for Sam to be there. Eventually that was the decider. Baby wouldn't let Dean be on his own (much to Dean's embarrassment) and Sam still wasn't fully trusting, and so much against Dean's wishes they decided it would be Baby that got his own room.

Sam insisted it would be good for him, so he could get used to everything and he would be given the spare card key for the brother's room just in case he freaked out. The plan didn't work out though, as the only other vacant rooms weren't on their floor, and Dean finally put his foot down and said that he would sleep on the shitty sofa against the wall, and went off downstairs to request more bedding. 

It ended up being a good thing that Baby got a bed to himself. His body was completely new, and so was the experience of sleep, he turned this way and that for hours before he managed sleep, by that time Sam and Dean were comfortably snoring away and Baby had begun to think he couldn't go to sleep.

The other new thing about his body – was its functions. Much to his shock and embarrassment when he woke up the next morning and put the pieces together. Because Baby had never dreamt before, and even if he had they certainly wouldn't have been anything like the one he experienced on his first night as a human.

The dream was weird, as dreams often are. They turned this way and that – just as his body did in real life. 

_“I'll take her.” John Winchester said, talking about a leather jacket that Baby knew was actually him. John discarded the jacket he had been wearing, an oddly patterned knitted thing, and put it in the bin. Donning his new jacket. Baby seemed to be invisible from his vantage point. Looking at the scene, but he knew he was the jacket really. He followed John and his coat-form down the street, passing people. These people could see him, but they didn't move out of the way and he got jolted and knocked from all angles as he rushed to keep up. All of the people had black eyes and sinister smiles and Baby lost John in all the chaos. But the jacket that was actually him... John had left it behind in a heap on the floor, Baby picked it up and put it on._

_All of a sudden John was back, he was on fire but he didn't seem to notice. Baby tried to talk, to warn him but all that came out of his mouth was the growl of an engine. It did the trick though, exhaust fumes poured from his mouth and extinguished the blaze. But when the smoke cleared, John had disappeared and in his place was a pile of ashes._

_Baby reached down to hold onto them. At first they flew through his fingers and he couldn't get a hold, the more he tried to keep them though, the more sluggish they seemed and in the blink of an eye the ashes oozed blood. More than they could ever have contained. It dripped from his hands and down his arm. Underneath the sleeve of his jacket and pooling at his elbow inside. The ground was slick with it and he couldn't keep his balance, he was shoved by one of the black-eyed passers-by and landed face first into the blood, there was a brief moment of concrete and blood beneath him but then he melted into the concrete and emerged, up right, at some sort of party._

_It was a children's birthday party from the looks of it. Brightly dressed people darted passed him having fun, and suddenly Mary was at his side, an arm around him.  
“He looks so happy, doesn't he?” She said with a smile, and he quickly followed her gaze. Dean. It was his party, he suddenly realised, and with that all the information he should have known came too. It was Dean's tenth birthday and Mary, John and Baby had thrown him a surprise party. They hadn't got clowns, Sam didn't like them, but there were balloons, streamers, John had a barbecue going but the children only seemed interested in the table of treats laid out on brightly coloured cloth, yellow paper plates with balloons on them stacked high. Baby looked down and took a bite of the chocolate cake sat on the paper plate in his hands – though when it had appeared there he didn't know. _

_He looked up from the plate and realised he was in front of the bouncy castle. It was incredible. Like four bouncy castles had been roped together, two on top of the other two. A multi-story bouncy castle. The ten year old Dean was at the top bouncing up and down, he shouted something to Baby, to join him maybe. But Baby looked and he couldn't see the stairs. Sam was beside him, but he looked older, early teens. But in the dream that made sense. Sam had always been older than Dean, they had other siblings too. Mary and John had had more children. But he couldn't think who they were. He didn't recognise them in the faces of the many nameless children frolicking around._

_“Sam, where are the stairs?” He asked, and this time his voice worked. But it wasn't his. It was a woman's voice. But again that made sense. He'd always been referred to as a 'she' after all. Sam was just about to answer, no longer a teenager but Sam as he was at Stanford. There was a girl next to him that Baby couldn't see and he knew this was the mysterious Jessica he'd heard of but never seen. This distracted him and he moved to see her, but it wasn't Jessica. It was Ruby, brown haired and beautiful in a deadly way. Her hand was locked in Sam's so tightly that his hand was broken, his fingers at odd angles and blood slowly dripping off his finger tips. But Sam didn't notice. He was too busy gazing lovingly into her fathomless black eyes._

_Panicked screaming drew him away from the sight and suddenly he seemed to be completely on his own. But no, the bouncy castle was there in all it's glory. Dean was still on top – but no longer ten, Dean was a full grown man now, his amulet bouncing off his chest as he bounced. Baby laughed at him and Dean grinned back. But his face turned to horror, looking at Baby. Baby quickly looked around to see what had scared Dean, but there was nothing there, and when he looked back, there was nothing there either. Dean and the bouncy castle had gone and in their place was... him. It was him, but as he had been. As a car._

_He got into his own drivers seat and went to find Dean. A short time later he saw the bouncy castle and drove to it as fast as he could, clambering out the car awkwardly and running towards it. But Dean wasn't there. He went to go look for him and climbed onto the bouncy castle._

_It was springy and buoyant beneath his feet and he experimentally bent his knees and bounced a little._  
 _Dean laughed, “What have I told you about bouncing on the bed?”_  
 _Baby laughed with him and lay down, the quilts somehow over him instead of under him. He could see his jacket on the chair by the door, exactly where he'd left it after the wendigo hunt the day before, he knew._  
 _“It's fun.”_  
“ _It's child-” Dean began but the shook his head, shifting his position, Baby obligingly lifted his head and put it back on Deans arm. He loved using him as a pillow, his arm was solid and hard but it made the worlds best pillow._  
 _“I like it. I remember when you were little and--”_  
 _Dean cut him off with a kiss, and just like that the thoughts of parties and bouncy castles were gone and replaced by a blank mind who's only ability was to chant a mantra of Dean's name. An ability his mouth originally shared but soon lost as Dean's tongue pressed, wet and hot, into his mouth._

_It was then that Baby realised how cold he was without his jacket, he was shivering with cold and the warmth of Dean's lips burned pleasantly against him. The heat of his breath doing more than a fire ever could, his lashing tongue sending sharp and acute heat down his spine and straight to his groin, which suddenly felt heavier and thicker against his thigh._

_All control gone Baby wrapped his hands around Dean's neck, pulling him closer. Dean obliged like Baby he knew he would, lifting himself onto his hands and covering Baby's body with his own, starting a slow rise and fall with his hips that Baby did his best to speed up, rocking frantically up into Dean and groaning into his mouth. His hands were everywhere, hair, neck, shoulders, back... nails digging in as he moaned helplessly beneath his owner, his Master._

_Baby mewled pathetically and Dean gave in with a grin, sinking his teeth into baby's shoulder and rutting his hips harder and harder. It went from their dicks rubbing frantically against one another one moment, the next – Dean was inside him, all control gone as his hands dug into Baby's thigh.  
“Come on Baby.” Dean groaned as he pulled his mouth away, and angled his hips. Something happened inside Baby he could never have expected. Dean hit something inside him that was so pleasurable it was almost painful, it was like a million fireworks going off in every cell of his body and it was all he could do to let it wash over him like a tsunami._

Just as Baby went over the edge he jerked awake, Dean's face still behind his eyelids. Eyes closed, mouth open in the perfect expression of pleasure. 

He was hot, tangled up in the sheets and couldn't see a thing. A sheen of sweat coated his body and his thighs felt sticky, his body thrumming. It took him awhile to understand. A combination of mixed memories, mostly of Dean when he became a teenager, conversations with Bobby he hadn't dared have with his father – that helped Baby understand. His body was new, so technically he was only just going through puberty, in a way at least. 

Bring on the wet dreams.

He quickly escaped the tangle of sheets on the bed, looking across at Dean on the sofa, he couldn't see much in the dark, only make out his rough shape, but it was enough to have his dick stirring again. He sought refuge in the bathroom and cleaned himself up, wetting the corner of a towel and patting himself down with cold water, running in across the back of his neck and shuddering as he his hand scraped past where Dean had bit him in the dream. “That dream was so fucked up.” He muttered, shuddering again. He attempted to clean the cum off the inside of the boxer shorts he'd been given to sleep in, and hoped that by morning the damp patch would have dried. Unsatisfied at his clean-up attempt, he went back to bed, and fell to sleep with surprising ease, despite the damp sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any criticism and feedback is very welcome and encouraged, and if anyone notices any errors please point them out so I can fix them! Thank you.


	6. Philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything powered by petrol in a certain state is suddenly becoming human. Trouble is the newly human creations want to repay the people who have treated them badly. How will Dean handle it when his Impala (who’s been damaged more than any car he’s ever seen) comes to life and wants answers, and how will his Impala handle it when the answers aren't what he wanted? [unbeta'd]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this Chapter is finished now. I'm a monster - it took forever. But I'm feeling a lot better about my writing now so updates will be coming far quicker than they have done recently! I'm thinking there will be about 15 chapters in total. But we'll see. If you could point out any typo's that would be great. If you want to beta for me that would be even better. I wrote the last half of this chapter without proof-reading (It's late, I want my bed) so it might not make ANY sense at all.

When Baby wakes up the next morning he finds it hard to look at Dean. Every time he catches a glimpse of him he remembers the dream. The horrors of John burning and the strange circumstances of the Winchesters are totally overshadowed by Dean's skin against his. Dean had been awake before him, and he woke up just in time to see Dean's T-shirt slide across his back. 

When Baby sat up Dean jumped a little, giving him a warm smile – he seemed nervous.  
“What's wrong?”  
The smile turned a little sad, and Dean shook his head. He had in fact been debating whether yesterday was a flook, and his car was going to go all Ted Bundy on his ass. But vocalising the thought wouldn't do anyone any good, so he pretended he hadn't thought it.  
“Gonna wait until Sam gets up then go for some breakfast, have a brain storm. Figure out what to do next.”  
Baby nodded in understanding, watching Dean give him the once over. He wondered if he should get dressed, was it abnormal behaviour for a human to stand around in boxer shorts? He'd never seen any. But he'd never been inside either. There was so much he had to learn, and as he understood it, the best way to learn was to ask – Sam and Dean did it all the time.  
“Should I get dressed?”  
Dean misinterpreted his question, instead of reading it as 'I'm lost and confused, please tell me what to do.' he understood it as 'You staring at me is uncomfortable, can you stop?' So his response made little sense to his poor car.  
“Uh no, yeah, uh, whatever. I was just... your scars...”  
“Huh?” baby looks down at his body in surprise. It was true his body was littered with shallow scratches and raised groves. His palms were particularly rough, and some of the scars were deeper, more raised than others. Including Sam and Dean's initials. But Baby didn't know that's what they were. Couldn't transfer the memory of the carvings being made to the scars above his hip.  
He looks back up at Dean with an expression that shares an uncanny resemblance to a dog that knows it's about to be told of. 

When Sam was finally awake, Baby was dressed and Dean was dying for some breakfast. So Sam had to get his ass into gear pretty quickly. Dean was already on his way out the door before he'd put on his jacket.  
Or his shoes.  
Or his jeans.

It was all Baby could think of, skin on skin. The taste of Dean's tongue in his mouth. Imaginary, yes. But Baby had never experienced a dream before and it had been so vivid, so real, that he was sure it was a premonition, that he'd get to experience the whole thing over again, but that this time Dean would experience it to. He was so lost in his own head that it was only when Dean said, “Dude?! What do you want to eat?” In a way that sounded like he'd already asked the same thing a couple of times previously, that Baby realised he was sat in a booth in a sweet smelling diner.  
“Oh uh... I don't know.”  
“You don't know. You're worse than Sam. Sammy?”  
Sam shrugged, glaring at Dean before picking up one of the menu's stacked at the edge of the table, handing one to Baby at the same time.  
Baby stared at it for a moment and then quietly said, “I don't know how.”  
“How?” Asked Sam, distractedly – his brain on whether to have porridge and suffer Deans torment, or just have a cup of coffee, maybe a pastry.  
“How to, um...” He gestured to the menu and there was a short beat of silence.  
“How to read?” Dean asked, taking the menu from him, “No problem.” Baby looked at him flip the menu over so he was looking at the breakfasts, “You've got... your usual healthy tasteless rubbish, or you can have pancakes? Or... a full breakfast, y'know, bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, hash brown, the works. Or, uh, bacon sandwich? Sausage sandwich? Breakfast burger? Oh... breakfast burger...”

As Dean got distracted enough by the idea of a breakfast burger that he stopped helping Baby out, Sam took over.  
“Anything sound good?”  
“I don't know.” Baby admitted. “Foods... weird.”  
“I get it. Totally.” Sam swore, “but you have to eat something, your body needs it.”  
Baby pulled a face of disgust, and ended up having toast. Which was gross, and coffee which wasn't quite as gross as all the things he'd tasted so far, but still pretty disgusting.

Dean tossed a couple of notes on the table when they were done eating and Sam looked up at him, “What happened to the 'make a plan' plan?”  
“Do you have a plan?”  
“I thought we had a plan to make a plan.”  
“But do you have a plan for the plan?”  
“No...”  
“I'm confused.” Baby offered helpfully, standing up to follow Dean but unable to move, trapped by Sam. 

“What's up with you?” Sam asked his brother quietly as they headed out, but Dean only shrugged and muttered that he didn't know what say was talking about, and before Sam could probe any further Baby interrupted them, this time it was with a genuinely helpful comment however.  
“Dean.”  
Dean looked around, his car sounded serious, he sounded like Sam when he'd just spotted something vital.  
“What?”  
Baby nodded his head and Dean obediently followed his gaze... and saw a very confused naked man. “A car?” He asked stupidly, and Baby nodded seriously, “Pontiac GTO.”  
“You can tell?”  
“You can't?” Baby asked, already on his way to the car already, gaining the wrath of a driver who beeped furiously at him as he raced across the road in his ill-fitting boots.  
“Hey!”  
By the time Sam and Dean got there Baby was already stripping his shirt and giving it to the other car, exposing his scars again. Luckily The Pontiac GTO's human form was much smaller than Baby – and looked much older. He seemed confused but unhurt as Baby quickly dressed him, the edge of the shirt going to his mid-thigh. People were beginning to stare.  
“You okay?”  
“Impala...?”  
“Yes.”  
“I'm...”  
“Human.”  
“Yes.” The Pontiac agreed, flinching as Sam and Dean joined them.  
“We should get him away from here.” Sam said quickly, looking at the surrounding members of the public.  
“Where? Back to the hotel?” Dean asked quickly, but Sam shook his head, “It's too far...”  
“Back there.” Baby said quickly, “That garage door is open, it'd be his right? And even if it isn't it's priva--”  
“It is mine.”  
“Well then. C'mon...”

Sam and Dean hadn't expected Baby to take control at all, so when he did they just sort of...rolled with it. There wasn't much else they could do otherwise. It was only when Dean heard the sound of the television inside the house the garage was attached to that he took control.  
“Uh, Ba.. Baby?” Okay, that felt so wrong in his mouth, he cleared his throat. “We need to get him out of here before he does over his owner like the rest of those cars...”  
“He's not going to hurt anyone, Dean.” Baby scolded, taking back his shirt and helping his new friend into a coat he'd found on the hook by the door, there were shoes too, but he wasn't sure if they'd fit. No trousers, but the coat went to his mid thigh – that'd be okay. Or Baby thought so anyway, he'd seen girls with more on show, but he knew there was a difference between the unspoken dress codes for men and women, although he didn't understand why. He filed it away to ask Dean later.

He managed to do the buttons on the coat with clumsy fingers and intense concentration.  
“This was Eric's.”  
“Who's Eric?” Baby asks as he kneels to do the last button, looking at the Pontiac's bare feet and then the shoes. He hadn't seen shoes like them before, they looked to flimsy, nothing like the boots he had on, or any pair of shoes he'd ever seen Sam or Dean in. Then he has a vague memory that flashes before his eyes for a moment as if it's real. There, in the Pontiac's garage he relives the night of Mary's murder, and feels John on his bonnet, in a dressing gown and brown shoes identical to these ones. But he couldn't put a name to them.

“My Owner. Or he was, he died a few years ago, and then me and Barbara were on our own – she can't drive any more. She can't do anything. Her brain's gone.”  
“Gone?” Baby asked, concerned.  
“I can't remember what it's called... D something. She forgets things. She thinks Eric's still here, and her son David. She talks to him but he's gone. He died when Eric did.”

Baby nods in understanding, thinking the word beginning with 'D' was 'drunk', he'd seen enough of that to know it messed with your head. John used to talk to Mary after she'd gone if he'd had plenty to drink. The word the Pontiac had in fact been looking for was 'Dementia'. Which he'd heard the nurses who occasionally cared for Barbara pass back and forth as if it explained why Barbara forgot the loss of her husband, and asked if she could see her daughter – a stillborn she'd birthed late in life and now believed was alive and well, crying for her Mother. But for some reason Barbara wasn't allowed to see her little girl. The Pontiac explained all this in between Baby's frustrated “What are these shoes called?” and Sam's amused reply of “Slippers, they're called slippers.” and Dean wondered if this car, like his own, was fond enough of his owner that he wouldn't want to beat the living shit out of dear old Barbara.

Regardless they couldn't let him near her. An old woman suffering from a mental illness might not respond so well to “Hey Lady, your cars alive, look! He's in your dead Husbands clothes!” No. That was definitely not a good idea.

But in the end Dean didn't get to make the decision, because Barbara herself appeared at the garage door. She looked like she was one of those women who still used doilies and drank out of china cups, she didn't look ill. She didn't even look lonely, she seemed happy off in her own little world. But that didn't comfort Sam, who's biggest fear was to lose his mind again, and here he was, stood in the garage of a woman who seemed happy to wave to her mind as it sailed away and left her stranded on the metaphorical dock that appeared in his mind. 

Dean was stuck between a false explanation and the temptation to run. But neither was necessary.  
“David! There you are! Why are you in your Dad's coat again? It's cold. You and your friends come inside.” She said to the Pontiac, who was staring at her like she was the love of his life. “Oh! Daniel, you're here too...” she sniffed at Dean, “You'll get in trouble hanging round here, you know your Mother doesn't like it. Apparently I'm not good enough for her, but there we are. In you come... In you come...” The four men shuffle into her home like the sheepish children of her imagination.

The house smells musty, but not completely unpleasant. It's cluttered but clean and as Barbara shuffles around them and tells them to go up to David's room, but not to make too much noise, Eric is asleep in bed, migraine.

The four of them, all equally unsure, head upstairs, the first door is a bathroom, the second a room that is clearly Barbara's, the third is obviously a teenagers room from maybe twenty or so years ago.  
“Okay, now what do we do?” Dean hisses at Sam, who is unable to stand up fully in the low roofed room.  
“I don't know, do I?” Sam hisses back and Baby looks at them like they're idiots.  
“We don't have to do anything.”  
“What do you mean we don't have to do anything?!” Dean demands, struggling to keep his voice hushed.  
“Barbara thinks he's David. So let him be David, let them both be happy.”  
“Baby,” Sam starts to explain, “Her illness doesn't work like that. She might change her mind about him tomorrow and decide he's a stranger, a threat. Plus...” he lowers his voice even more “the other cars all murdered their owners...”  
“So?”  
“So he could too.”  
Baby snorts and shakes his head. “Sam, not all cars are killers, it depends who's behind the wheel.”  
“Philosophical.” Dean comments, approving.


	7. Vodka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... three years after first uploading this story, I'm finally getting round to finishing it! Yay!

Neither of the Winchester brothers liked leaving a hexed car with a defenceless old age pensioner, though Sam was more bothered about it than Dean – who insisted that they had much bigger problems than a nutty old woman. They were stuck on foot without the Impala as it should be, and they needed to find this witch. Murdering cars were still roaming around and needed to be found. They couldn't do anything with the Pontiac, they didn't know how to turn him back and Dean told Sam that they didn't need any more babysitting gigs and that one car was enough – and then chuckled to himself as he realised just how appropriate it was to refer to looking after his car as 'babysitting', deciding to keep his little joke to himself.

Dean didn't really see it as babysitting, at least not all the time. It was strange, he wanted his car back – solid, metal and guzzling fuel. But despite his car being a little slow on the uptake with all things human, he was good company and Dean didn't mind admitting (here meaning ‘was really bothered by the idea of admitting, even to himself’) that Baby was an attractive guy. But after a whole day, even good company got a bit boring. They'd been in the same room surrounded by the same stuff all day. Baby wouldn't eat any of the junk food they had to munch on but an idea came to Dean when he started fantasizing about having a drink. He couldn't decide if they idea was a good one or a very very bad one - but rolled with it anyway, because – man – he could really do with a drink.

“C'mon, we're going out.” He ordered, tossing his magazine onto the night stand and getting to his feet, brushing crumbs off his jeans. He looked down at his socks and then perched on the end of the bed to put on his shoes.  
“Where?”  
“Well, two places really, I don't know maybe more. But the point is – we don't know how long Baby is going to be staying with us right? How long it's going to take to track this witch down – and he's walking round in my clothes with my only other pair of boots, which are too big for him anyway.”  
“Right...” Sam prompted when Dean didn't continue.  
“Dude, he needs his own clothes.”  
“we're going shopping?” Sam asked, incredulous. Looking at Dean like he'd lost his mind.  
“Yeah, it'll kill some time--” Dean looked like he'd had an end to that sentence but said nothing else, patting Baby on the shoulder “C'mon dude.”

It was only minutes later when Dean realised he fucking hated shopping. But Baby seemed to love it, marvelling at all the different fabrics and styles and spending way too long staring at leather jackets. Dean just trailed along behind him, happy to see the childish glee on his cars face (that didn't sound any less weird in his head) as he moved from one article of clothing to the next.

Dean didn't let him buy the three-piece suit he wanted. Just several generic t-shirts, a few pairs of jeans and two pairs of boots – and one luxury. The leather jacket he hadn't stopped stroking. Baby looked much better in clothes that fit him, walked easier in shoes that fit him.

It was an improvement now that Dean had his clothes back and Baby wasn't tripping up in over-sized shoes but Dean was in serious need of a drink after the ordeal. Sam hadn't helped. Being all girly and 'yeah dude, you look really good', who fucking cares? The car wasn't going to stay a car forever, hell if his spare boots had fit Dean probably would've just put up with being down a few items of clothing, as few as he had in the first place. He just didn't want his car to be uncomfortable, what kind of shitty owner would he be? Anyway it was easily justifiable considering the cards he was using were totally fake, it wasn't as if he was spending money on the damn car.

“This, Baby, is a bar.” Dean told him as he shoved him through the doors into a crowded and noisy room, it smelt bad and the floor was sticky but the grin on Dean's face made Baby think this must be a good place. The frown on Sam's face told him differently but he decided to reserve judgement. Or vocally anyway, internally he totally agreed with Sam, this place was gross.  
Dean ordered for them, and handed a brown bottle to Sam. He had a glass with a dark amber liquid at the bottom and Baby had a tiny glass that looked like it was full of water. The bottle was full, the little glass was full...  
“They didn't give you a full drink...” Baby told Dean, looking at the glass Dean was holding, he hadn't had a sip yet and it was less than a third full.  
“It's supposed to be... never mind. Drink your shot.”  
“Shot?”  
“Dean I don't think this is a good idea.” Sam interrupted, putting his bottle of beer on the bar.  
“Dude, he hates all the food he's tried, and why? Because he's a car. Cars like fuel right? Even you can't deny vodka kind of smells like the stuff, I bet it tastes like it too. It's an experiment Sammy, I thought you liked those.”  
“Dean, this isn't an experiment, this is you wanting to get drunk and using Baby as an excuse!”  
“So?” Dean asks nonchalantly, tipping his glass back against his lips and then looking expectantly at his car as he put it down, dropping it about an inch from the table so it made a thud and the remaining liquid bounced around inside. Baby watched Dean's drink sway from side to side until it settled before frowning at his own small glass.  
“Dean, this is the stuff you're not supposed to drink before driving me, right?”  
Dean shrugs, still looking expectantly from Baby to the shot glass.  
“Yeah, it is.” Sam offers taking a reluctant sip of his beer and setting to bottle carefully back on the table in the exact position it had been before. Even taking the time to turn the bottle so the label faced the right way.  
“It makes you disorientated? Clumsy?”  
Sam nods again and watches Dean with a smug expression, thinking that maybe the car had some sense. So he was disappointed when Baby tipped the glass down his throat.

He didn't scrunch up his face like any normal person who'd just tipped a shot of vodka down their throat for the first time, licking his lip gently with a curious look at the empty shot glass.  
“Well?” Dean asked after a moment, taking another sip out of his own glass.  
“It's not very strong.”  
Dean laughed out right and shook his head, only stopping when his car looked offended and exclaimed “Compared to petrol it isn't! What's funny?!”  
“Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry.” Dean assured him, hands in the air. “Just that's strong stuff. It was kind of funny hearing you complain about it.”  
“Oh.”

 

“And then--” Dean exclaims, laughing to himself, and miming the actions as he tells the story “and then! I throw the pen... and bam! Straight into the barrel of this Jesus-freaks gun.”  
Sam's chuckling into his fourth or fifth beer bottle and Baby is enraptured by Dean's story. “His little sidekick runs straight for me and I just casually move out the way – son of a bitch slams straight into the wall behind me. I'm looking at this other guy like, 'too bad dude' and throw the TV remote at his head, knocks the guy out cold.” Dean shakes his head, grinning as he knocks back his eighth or ninth glass of whiskey.

The stories had been getting sillier and sillier, after all there were many to choose from. Some of them Baby could place from the snippets of the adventures that had taken place inside him, or the discussions Sam and Dean had had on their way somewhere. But a couple of them he'd had no idea about. He had a vague recollection of winning lottery tickets and small talk but he hadn't known anything about the cursed rabbit foot that had caused Dean's epic win against two other hunters, and Sam's stream of misfortune.

According to the bar man several people had been complaining about their cars being stolen, a few of which Sam hadn't found during his research, he didn't have his badge with him but managed to wheedle some more information out of him, and made a mental note to research more in the morning to discover it there were more car-gone-humans running around without murdering their owners. There could be a lot more then they'd thought if not all the cars turned into killers like they'd originally assumed. Sam was quite sure that Baby wasn't going to kill them. As first he'd been undecided because of Baby's drastic changes in emotion but that seemed to be fading quickly, and Sam reasoned that turning human was a lot to deal with, never mind all the shit they'd put the Impala through over the years, his emotions were bound to be pretty unstable.

It still bothered him a little – okay, shit, it bothered him a lot – but mass alcohol consumption was muting those feelings. That bothered him too, he wasn't like Dean. He didn't self-medicate his problems away with a bottle, he never had. But Dean had come back from purgatory as more of a mess than when he'd arrived. Everything had an easy answer with him now. Leave it alone or drink until you come up with something. The old Dean would never have left that car with that old woman, so why the hell was Sam letting him?

Sam got so lost in his thoughts that it took a moment to realise that there was only Dean keeping him company.  
“Where's Baby?” He demanded over the terrible music coming out of the juke box in the corner, Dean looked up at him, eyes drooping and muttered something about Baby taking a leak before chuckling under his breath and muttering, “Like my car ever springs a leak – get it Sam?”

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up, locating the toilets with a squint in all directions until he saw it. He headed over, he could feel the pounding of alcohol in his head and his steps weren't as steady as he would've liked but he managed to slam into the bathroom door without too much trouble. But trouble had definitely found Baby.

He was pressed against the wall, some jerks hand to his throat, shouting in his face. His lip was busted and already swelling up. It took Sam longer than he would ever admit to realise what was happening and run at the guy who hurt Baby.

A drunken fist to the jaw was all it took to send the guy barrelling away,  
“What's your problem?!” Sam demanded, storming over to him with a bit of a wobble.  
“Dude was checking me out!” The man defended – and Sam guffawed. The guy was a red neck, no doubt about it. One of those insecure middle aged men who saw sin everywhere and thought that were god’s gifts to the women they drooled over.  
Sam told him to get out, was surprised when he did, and then stumbled over to Baby – who had slid down the wall even further and was kneeling on the piss-soaked floor whimpering.  
“Baby, what happened?”  
“I d-- I d-- I don't--”  
“Hey, hey, it's okay, it's alright. C'mere.”  
Baby half-collapses into Sam's outstretched arms. Sam trying to balance on his feet, not drunk enough to forget about the disgusting floor.

It was then that Dean decided to join them, bursting through the door and then stopping, stunned, when he sees the two of the cuddled up on the floor. He couldn't have looked less stunned if he'd been hit on the head with a small fridge.  
“Sam.”  
Sam looked up at his and tried to shrug, but with Baby clinging to him it was a bit hard. He didn't have to worry about that for long though, as soon as Baby saw Dean he stumbled to his feet, slopping piss all over Sam's jeans, and hurling himself into his arms.  
To this day Sam couldn't explain how Dean managed to keep his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was true to my word and published before the end of March, I hope that makes up for the ridiculously huge gap between this update and my last. I plan on setting myself a reasonable target of updating once a month. Which isn't the best but it certainly beats my current record, so I hope it will be enough for everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This Fanfiction was formerly on tumblr as an untitled Ianpala fic on the imaginatively named immortalecstasysfanfictions.tumblr.com. But I have now moved it on here as I received my AO3 Invite. 
> 
> Any criticism and feedback is very welcome and encouraged, and if anyone notices any errors please point them out so I can fix them! Thank you.
> 
> Edit: (Feb, 2016) I would just like to apologise for the huge gap in updating and to let you guys know that I am going to start writing again this year and hope to get this updated towards the end of March!


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